


The Growth and Healing of Mystic Warriors

by BlackMambo113



Category: Original Work, The Care and Feeding of Magical Creatures
Genre: Bondage, Catboys & Catgirls, Demons, Dom/sub, Dragons, Dream Sex, F/M, Fighting Kink, Hand Jobs, High Fantasy, Human/Monster Romance, Lucid Dreaming, Magic, Martial Arts, Non-Graphic Violence, Occult, Oral Sex, S&M, Sex, Succubi & Incubi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29587113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackMambo113/pseuds/BlackMambo113
Summary: A young man finds his equal in a succubus who opens his eyes to the supernatural and leads him to her home.
Kudos: 5





	1. Seeking Inner Peace

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Care and Feeding of Magical Creatures](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17061161) by [MissBlueEyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBlueEyes/pseuds/MissBlueEyes). 



Bap, Bap, Bam. The sound of flesh striking leather stood out in the mostly empty gym. _Jab, Jab, Punch. Jab, Jab, Punch._ A young man danced around a punching bag, breathing heavily. _Duck, Uppercut left. Duck, Uppercut right,_ he thought to himself as he worked through his routine. _Step back, and side kick._ His foot sent the bag smoothly swinging away. When it returned, he caught the bag, hugging it close before hitting its non-existent kidney with a parting shot. 

Stepping back, he tried to wipe his face with the sleeve of his t-shirt, only to smear the sweat already there. Taking a deep breath in, he slowly exhaled as he reached down to pick up a hand towel. Wiping his face dry, he ran the towel through his short brown hair. Dropping the towel back on the ground, he shook out his arms and legs as he transitioned to cool downs.

He started out by stretching his arms, rolling his broad shoulders. Which provided his mind an opportunity to bring up matters that were comfortably distant moments ago. _Remember Marc, we have to get that assignment done tomorrow. And don’t forget the groceries on the way home, there is nothing in the fridge._ He twisted his torso back and forth before running his hands uncomfortably along his gut. No amount of exercise ever seemed to give him a flat stomach. His paunch was yet one more detail of his body that he didn’t like. He frowned before continuing to stretch his legs out. _Should we do something this weekend? So hard making new friends here. We could call up Jessie. We just moved to the other side of town, it’s not like it’s a long drive. I’m sure they’ll be up for hanging out._

His stretching finished, he grabbed his towel and tossed it over his shoulder. Heading back to the locker room, he waved noncommittally in response to a head nod from one of the other guys doing curls. _Do we know him?_ Marc’s mind only shrugged in response. 

Once in the locker room, he opened up his locker and pulled out his bag. _Forgetting something?_ “Right, right.” he replied to himself. _Never good at this, but practice and all that_. Sitting on the floor, he rested his back against the lockers and tucked his legs up underneath. Setting a timer on his watch, _one minute of meditation. Here we go._

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. _In through the nose. Slowly. Now out through the mouth._ His heart rate slowed. _Good. Now, let go of thoughts and... Inner Peace. Inner Peace._ He knew it wasn’t right to focus on words, but true silence rarely happened in his mind. _Inner Peace. Inner_ -

*A vision of a fist flying towards his face, he brings his arm up to parry*

 _That’s a new one brain. Come on Marc, let’s try harder and focus here._ He took a slow breath. _Inner Peace._

*A vision of blocking a kick, hand running along a feminine leg, he turns and*

He shook his head, _that was vivid._ He rubbed a hand down his face. _Dang it brain, I know you hate silence, but come on._ _Inn-“_ A feminine voice purred in his ear, “Are you going to just sit there?” His eyes flew open.

Marc wasn’t in his gym anymore, but in a different room. A Japanese dojo? Lightly padded floors, wooden walls, shoji doors, washi paper windows. Light filtered from above giving the room an off-real tone. Silhouettes peered in through the paper windows. Looking down he realized he was no longer in his gym clothes, but in a formal Gi. “Well?” the voice prompted, “I’m waiting.”

A redheaded woman stood on the other side of the room, impatiently tapping her foot. Dressed in a red leather bodice and tight pants, she looked like she came out of one of his video games. Full curves and a tight figure, the kind that just doesn’t exist in the ‘real’ world. Her colors were too vivid to be natural, like the saturation was turned up too high. 

“Well okay then,” he said to himself as he stood up, “this is a dream I can work with.”

“Oh honey,” she said with a smile, “this dream is more real than you think, but you’ll have to stop sleeping first.” Advancing a few steps, she shifted into a fighting posture and started bobbing back and forth on her feet.

“Uh, sure, whatever that means brain,” he said rolling his eyes, “so, what game have I come up with today?”

It was her turn to roll her eyes over her guard. “You really can’t put one and one together? Do you need letters in the air telling you what to do in an arena? Cause we have those,” she sneered condescendingly and snapped her fingers. Two foot tall letters appeared in the air between them. **FIGHT** it said in an angry bloody font. From outside the room a slow chant of ‘Fight. Fight. Fight,’ started growing.

Marc chuckled, “Whatever you say brain.” He shook out his shoulders and settled into a boxers dance to counter hers, “so what’s your name dreamboat?”

“Kestrel,” she replied with a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. “Try to remember,” she said before she opened up with a few jabs. He settled into a well-practiced routine: three blocks and then a counter punch. She didn’t move to block as his fist stopped less than an inch from her face and hovered. Kestrel sighed, c _ome on, engage with me here._ “We’re not here to practice your foot work or run your routines,” she said as she casually grabbed his extended wrist, “We’re here to fight. Take me seriously.” With that she yanked him off balance and elbowed him in the ribs hard enough to get the point across.

“Ow, that hurt,” Marc said with surprise, rubbing his ribs. _Dreams don’t hurt. This is...something different._ He looked around again and it seemed the tones and colors of the room had focused and sharpened, becoming more real. “This isn’t a dream, is it?”

“No,” she said softly. _Come on, you can do it. Stay with me this time._

Turning to look at Kestrel, he saw her clearer. What had been stylized had become real. His eyes wandered along her red pants, noticing for the first time that they were trimmed with a vibrant orange flame pattern. He could see the muscles that twitched as she shifted from foot to foot nervously. Stitching on her red leather bodice guided his eyes to her narrow waist and broad hips. Peering over the bodice was the kind of deep cleavage that you could get lost in. Hints of sharp nails painted black peeked out from her raised fists, one of which moved up to adjust a stray hair. Her wavy red hair shifted colors iridescently, pulling out highlights of oranges and yellows as her tongue darted across her brightly painted lips. Smokey eyes watched his every glance, hopefully. 

“Well?” she prompted after indulging him as long as she could withstand, afraid to break the moment, unwilling to not risk more. He blushed, not realizing how much he was staring at her beauty. “Wow,” Marc managed, finding words lacking. Her lip quivered slightly as she drank in his reaction, her heart pounding in her ears out of fear and hope. _Maybe?_

“Lady Kestrel,” he said as bowed slightly before taking up a fighting stance, “will you give me this dance.”

“Stones Yes,” she replied, “I was worried you’d never ask.” Fear of losing Marc washed away as she gave a quick bow in response before charging. The rhythm of her pounding steps made out a staccato beat before she leap towards him. He was barely able to get out of the way of a kick to his head. A quick dodge to the side and he was back on the offensive, chasing her with quick punches of his own. The fight was on for real.

The pair exchanged volleys as they danced around the room. She started with long kicks and aerial attacks, leaping at him with powerful strikes that proved difficult to block. He sidestepped like a matador and flung chasing punches at her as she passed, occasionally rolling to shift position and attack from a new angle. Forces clashed and were turned away as neither found a quick victory. 

Marc relished the sensation of not having to hold back, of being so closely matched. Tiring of her high energy maneuvers, Kestrel landed close to Marc and launched into a rapid series of punches and blocks. Face to face with barely any distance between them, they both shifted to Wing Chun. Arms slid and flowed over each other like water, grips made and broken as each sought an advantage. Fists and nails tugged at their clothes, scraped along their exposed chests and necks, but neither could score a solid hit. Energy began flowing between them, building as their duel sped up.

While Marc couldn’t identify the tingling in his arms and the feelings running through his body, Kestrel greedily soaked it in. Her flaming hair moved as if was swimming in the field of energy around them, tiny sparks winking at the tips of her locks. Electricity arced across her nipples, eliciting a high pitched squeal of pleasure. Marc was surprised by her utterance and momentarily froze. In that split moment, her arm slipped around his and hit him with a shallow uppercut.

He staggered back a couple steps without dropping his guard. They both waivered, breathing heavily from their match, too stimulated to register their bruises. The spell they were weaving broken, the energy they had mixed together flowed back, bringing a bit of the other’s with it. Mark took a deep breath and shook out his limbs, feeling an unfamiliar fire that he couldn’t explain deep in his veins. Kestrel drew the energy in from the air around them and pushed his electricity into her core. She felt nectar start to pool between her legs. Her eyes closed as she clawed at her breasts through her bodice, biting her lip in self-inflicted pleasure & pain. “More,” she whispered.

She opened her eyes to see that Mark was transfixed on her, a spellbound look in his eyes and a pulsing tent in his pants. “Do you like my outfit?” Kestrel teased as she thrust her chest forward and presented herself. One hand rested casually on her hip as the other traced across her large breasts, dipping into her cleavage briefly before pretending to check her nails. “I picked it especially for you,” she said, smelling his reaction to her body. He blinked a few times and swallowed, finding his throat suddenly dry. 

“Well,” he said, an idea forming from watching her rising and falling bosom. “You look magnificent,” he praised while making a show of looking her over and slowly shifting his back foot, “but I just don’t see a bodice as combat gear. A poor choice,” he lunged forward and ducked inside her reach. He launched a point blank right hook just below the breastbone, angled up to drive all the air out of her lungs.

Thump. 

Marc was stunned. She barely moved, it was like hitting a brick wall. Pretending to blow gently on her nails Kestrel taunted, “I’m not going to break like your ex. I’m not wearing this to hide a flabby belly. I’m fucking owning this outfit.” He broke out of his paralysis as she drove her elbow towards the top of his head. Diving forward, he tucked and rolled behind her, coming back up to his feet.

But he didn’t return to a fighting stance. His hands were halfway lowered, his eyes looking around wildly as his thoughts fragmented upon her words. “How did you know about that?” he asked in a panic, “No-one saw us. You weren’t – You weren’t there. Right? I’d remember someone like you. Did she say anything? Why would she? What’s going on?”

Her sense of smug satisfaction at blocking his punch with just her abs dropped as she saw him start to turn transparent. Small motes dissolved off of him, winking out like sparks in the night air. _Shit Shit Shit. Shouldn’t have said that. Now he’s thinking too much. I’m gonna lose him. Gotta fix this. Fast._ “RAAAAAA!” Kestrel’s voice rose to an animalistic timber as she lunged at him, fingers curled into claws. Her first swipe raked across his arm, just deep enough to scratch and ensure she recaptured his focus.

All thoughts were banished as he was forced to rapidly retreat to avoid her painful strikes. Kestrel pressed him hard, giving him no time for thought, no spare breath for talking. Limbs clashed against limbs as his tiger stance fended off her panther stance. She came on him too fast to counter, landing painful strikes on his arms and torso as he tried to get his defense back up. But she was unwilling to relent, fearing that at any moment he could be lost.

Backpedaling wildly, he sensed he was almost up against a wall and twisted around her lunge to keep from being trapped. Her black nails tore four thin jagged lines into the wood pillar he barely sidestepped to avoid. Spinning on her ankle to resume the offensive, she punched her claw out only for him to block her straight on with a tiger palm of his own. Striking out with her other hand, he repeated the block leaving them straining into each other in a modified test of strength. She latched her nails into the back of his hands and squeezed. Outside of a brief glimpse of pain on his face, he didn’t yield. Neither did she, when he grabbed her palms and pushed back against her. Both of their arms tensed as their contest changed forms. Muscles rippled with effort, forces flowing like water that built into waves, crashing into each other.

Kestrel was able to leverage her grip and nails to roll his wrists back. Her shoulders and arms flexed with power as she started to push his arms down, “I...am...stronger,” she said through gritted teeth. The thrill of the challenge pulsed through him, all the way down to his erection that strained to tear a hole in his pants. But he felt his arms start to falter and he knew he had to do something soon or be driven down and yield. With lightning speed, his foot flew up between them and smashed into her jaw, sending her head flying back from the impact, red and orange hair cascading wildly around her as she dropped her grip on him. Continuing his foot arc, he set up an axel kick and pulled her halfway down so the back of her head was in line before letting go and cracking his heel on the back of her skull.

She collapsed face first onto the mat, her well-endowed chest doing more to break her fall than her arms. Bouncing from the impact, her breasts threatened to spill out of the bodice as she hit the ground and lay there stunned. “Damn that hurt,” he said as he rubbed his neck and arms, “But I bet that hurt too.” he said to her prostrate form, taking a few steps away.

“Damn that hurt,” she groaned. Kestrel rubbed her jaw as she rose to one knee. She wiped off a trickle of blood from the corner of her lips on her hand before showing it to him. “First blood to you it seems,” she said, forcing herself to rise up too quickly. Wavering on unsteady legs she could feel her arousal rising to intoxicating levels. She shook her head a couple times to clear the cobwebs before stretching her neck with a couple audible pops. “Time to end this I guess,” she mused. “Winner take all?” He cracked his knuckles in response and nodded.

Both fighters stared down the other, fatigue showing in both their frames as they readied for their final clash. Slowly they dropping into mirrored fighting stances. Like two samurai warriors, they stared each other down, looking for weakness. Feet gripped the mats of the floor, eking every tiny advantage they could find. Muscles twitched like coiled springs, waiting. Silence reigned as seconds slowed down.

Responding to some unperceivable signal, Kestrel and Marc dashed towards each other. Time seemed to drag, as if it was caught unawares by their sudden movement. Feet thundered, closing the distance between them before they both took to the air with twin sidekicks. They sailed through the air, their impact imminent. Kestrel’s jump was higher, Marc’s foot hitting empty air as hers embedded itself in the pit of his stomach. His body folded in half around her extended leg before momentum sent him flying backwards. 

He landed hard on his side and slid a few feet. Marc gasped, trying to refill his lungs and clutching his gut in pain. Kestrel landed with feline grace, striding over to him, “on your knees now. You lost.” After a few shallow pained breaths, he pulled himself up to a sitting position, resting his butt on his heels. She placed her foot on his shoulder, showing off her flexibility. He rested his head against her leg and closed his eyes briefly. Kestrel put her weight into him, driving him down, and he responded by straightening back up as he could, defiant even in defeat. She grinned predatorially at him. “Eyes up,” she commanded. He raised his eyes up across her body, admiring the taut leg muscles that worked to keep her balance against him. The damp apex of her pants was pulled tight enough to see the outline of her labia. Her scent was so close, filling his nose with sweat and sex. Her breasts were glistening with perspiration and heaving in the bodice from the combat. And then her eyes. Locking his in their fierce gaze, he could feel her passion and her conviction in the fire he found there.

“I claim my prize,” a faint wisp of flame escaped her lips as Kestrel bent down to kiss him. His eyes stayed locked to hers till their lips met. She was gentle at first, as this moment meant more to her than he knew. But soon she became ravenous, drinking in his mouth, nipping his lips with her teeth. He started to kiss her back, but she grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged to remind him his place. Yielding, he opened his mouth to her questing tongue and she dove for the opportunity. He tasted smoke and cherries on her tongue as their lips ground together and she conquered his mouth. 

After what could have been minutes for all he knew, she pulled back, leaving them both gasping for air. She pulled her foot off his shoulder to steady herself. _Mmm, so much better that I expected. I want more. But no time. Have to send him back._ Her hand reached out his cup his face, the black nails lightly scratching before resting up against his ear. “Wake up my warrior, you must rest before our next battle.” “Next battle,” he murmured, still dazed and breathless from the kiss. She smiled softly memorizing his features before emitting a sad sigh as she drew her leg back. She pulled his face forward into her rising knee, ending his consciousness and returning him to the sleeping realm. His form shattered into a thousand pieces that crackled with electricity before fading away. 

The unseen crowds roar of approval was cacophonous. She straightened herself up and pumped one fist in the air, a satisfied grin on her face. _That was so GOOD._ Her hands ran over her body, resting on a few wounds she would relish and let heal slower than this place warranted. She couldn’t keep herself from grabbing her breasts and spanking her pussy once, cooling her passion, even as it threatened to flare up from the touch. Her form shifted from human to near human as she walked out of the arena. 

Opening the sliding shoji door, she saw the collection of other Valkyr and Humans who had watched. While most cheered her success, some had broken off into their own small spars, inspired by their fight. Others were openly pleasuring themselves, the scent of sex signaling their approval of the battle they witnessed.

A large umber hand landed on her shoulder, “Do you think he’ll remember this time?” an eight foot tall bull-man rumbled. Kestrel nodded, “I’m sure of it Samu’el, this time he will.” _He has too_. The minotaur leaned down conspiratorially, “he’s getting better isn’t he?” Kestrel looked up, “Yes,” pride shone in her face and a fire lit in her eyes, “He hasn’t beaten me yet in this world. But he’s getting close. If he can just awaken.” She chuckled to herself, “our battles will be legendary.” She turned her head and looked back through the door at the few last fading sparkles left of his consciousness, _Wake my love, return to me soon._

* * *

A watch timer’s alarm sounded, signaling that a minute had passed. Marc opened his eyes to see he was back in the gym. _Wow. That was intense! What was that? Who was she? Kes-_

The slamming of a locker door interrupted his thoughts. Someone in the room was talking to him, but it took a moment for the words to register. “Dude, your nose.” “Huh?” he mumbled, “Oh, thanks.” Marc wiped his nose with the back of his hand, only to see that he had a small nosebleed. _What?_ He pinched his nose and moved over to the sinks to get a paper towel to stop the trickle. _How is that possible?_ His mind struggled to recall the memories of what just happened, but they slipped away like sand through his fingers. Momentary flashes were all that remained, and a name that eluded him. Only when he wiped his nose clean in the mirror did he see that his precum had pooled through his underwear and left a stain on his shorts. “Whatever that was, I need to do it again,” he said to the mirror. And for a moment, there was a glint in the reflection’s eyes.


	2. Every Quest begins with K

Marc’s head hit the desk. He groaned in frustration as he banged his head on the table repeatedly. Sitting back up, he looked at the piece of paper in his hand. Names, so many names. None of them the right one. He was sure her name was K...something, but what? He crunched up yet another failed attempt to remember and tossed the paper into the wastebin where it bounced off all the other crumpled pieces of paper that filled it. All around his desk and on the floor were sketches and drawings he’d made over the week. Fragments of a woman, places, and moments. None of them felt quite right to him. In frustration, he ran his arm across the desk, scattering pages into the air.

Yawning, he looked over at the clock by his bed. With an accusatorial light, it read 3:04 AM. Getting up with a heavy sigh, he staggered to the kitchen area of his one room flat. “Why can’t I remember,” he said to himself. “And I can’t get her out of my head either.” Pulling open the fridge door, he scratched his bare hairy chest before pawing around for something to drink. “Why is there nothing in here,” he complained before grabbing a can of soda. Closing the door, he meandered over to his bed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Marc took a long drink of his soda before setting it down on the end table. Tossing his shorts and boxers onto a pile of clothes in the corner designated ‘dirty’, he was about to try to sleep when a page drew his attention. Knocking aside the pencils that had fallen on top, he picked it up. The page was covered with a dozen pairs of eyes. Her eyes, and yet not. 

He looked over his failures. This pair too harsh, this set too kind. These wide and expressive, this set sultry. He couldn’t even color them consistently, browns, blues, ambers, even one colored in gold. A pair in the corner was writhed in flames. None of them felt quite right. One thing they all agreed on, that he felt was right, was smokey eyeshadow and black mascara. _At least I got that right._ He sighed again.

He stared at the page of her eyes until his eyes unfocussed. For a moment, he thought he could feel her skin, smell the sweat in the air, hear the sounds of her voice. No words came to mind, but a tone, a pitch, nothing more. His naked penis hardened. _Perhaps once before bed?_ he thought to himself, grabbing his growing shaft. 

He started to stroke his penis. Looking at the page of eyes for inspiration, his hand stopped. _No. This isn’t right_. _She isn’t some errant porn to get off to._ Something inside him had decided that it was wrong to use his memories of her like this. Marc let his penis go, despite its protestation. He took a long slow breath, willing his libido to settle down.

He lay down on the bed. _Maybe she’s friends with someone I know on social media. I’ll try that tomorrow._ He put the page of eyes down against his end table lamp, so that it faced him while he slept. Turning out the light, he yawned once more and closed his eyes, wondering what dreams might come.

* * *

The moonlight filtered through the trees, shadows looming, obscuring. He scanned the dark forest, fear gripped him as he felt eyes upon him. He was lost in the darkened woods, hunted, chased, terrified. A nightmare of his own making. An animalistic growl from above and a glimpse of movement in the dark sent him panicking in the other direction. Flailing as he ran, branches struck him painfully and bushes tore at his clothes, leaving them in rags as he scrambled away.

He heard the sound of tree limbs breaking above him, cracking under the weight of some terrible beast. He ventured to look over his shoulder and saw a dark feline shape leap from branch to branch, getting closer. Powerful claws left gouges in the wood as it gained on him. Not looking where he was going, he ran headlong into a tree, spun and fell on his face onto the hard ground. 

Spitting out a mouthful of leaves, he rose to all fours. Head down, he strained to get enough air into his lungs. He heard the beast land on the ground behind him. _Too close. Got to fight. Get UP!_ He pushed himself up and turned, only to fall back down. His foot was tangled around a vine on the ground. Reaching down, he frantically tore at the vine that trapped him, yanking and pulling with all his strength. A feline grumble pulled his attention as he saw a sleek black panther crouch down and prepare to leap. It’s haunches wiggled back and forth as the tail swayed. The panther’s tongue licked its lips in anticipation, but he was drawn to its eyes. Eyes that had eluded him. Her eyes.

Fear gave way to comprehension. “You,” Marc said to the beast. The panther sat up suddenly and tilted her head in confusion. He continued, “I...know you.” She nodded slowly. His thoughts spilled out, “I can’t remember much, I tried but I can’t. I swear I know you from somewhere, but...” he paused as he had a revelation, “I’ve been searching for you, but I can’t find you, so I dreamed up you searching for me. This isn’t a nightmare, this is a fantasy.” He looked up as she giggled.

Where once was a panther, a feline Kestrel sat on her haunches. The smallest of black string bikinis covered her pert breasts, gravity having no say in how they jutted out and bounced with her laughter. Her clawed hands rested on the black velvet soft fur that ran from her thighs down her legs. Cat like ears poked out from a wild mane of black hair that ran down past her shoulders. Her lips were curled up into a smirk, one small fang visibly jutting out from between. A black cat’s tail swayed back and forth in amusement. 

“This place is very sensitive to the tone of your thoughts,” she warned, gesturing to the forest that no longer loomed around them. He nodded his head slowly in understanding. “Want to try again,” Kestrel asked. “Yeah,” he replied happily. Standing up, he found that the vine no longer entangled his foot, his clothes mostly repaired. She got back down on all fours and started clawing at the ground. With a fire in her eyes, she prompted “Run.” With joy in his step, he fled.

* * *

The moonlight filtered through the trees, highlighting his path. He scanned the forest, excitement gripped him as he felt her eyes upon him. He was running through the woods, hunted, chased, thrilled. A fantasy of his own making. A feline growl from above and a glimpse of her movement in the shadows reminded him to keep running. Twisting as he ran, branches pushed him forward and bushes tore at his clothes, exposing his bare flesh to the huntress that followed.

He heard the sound of tree limbs breaking above him, cracking under the strength of her hybrid form. He dared to look over his shoulder and saw a her summersault gracefully from branch to branch, soon to be upon him. Strong legs propelled her through the air and powerful claws gripped the limbs as she gained on him. Not looking ahead, he clipped his shoulder on a tree, spun and fell onto the soft mossy ground. 

Spitting out a mouthful of leaves, he rose to all fours. Looking forward, he drew in air for one last dash. He heard her softly land on the ground behind him. _Too close. Got to run. Get UP!_ He pushed himself up and took a few steps, only to fall back down. His foot was caught by the vine on his path. Turning over, he looked back to see her winding up to leap. Her hips wiggled back and forth as her tail swayed in anticipation. Through her black mane, he could see her lick her lips, he could see the desire in her eyes. He rolled over onto his belly and surrendered to her, raising and presenting his backside.

Kestrel leapt upon his back, her weight driving him to the ground. Claws pierced his wrists and pulled them up, over his head. She ground her crotch against his ass before she settled down onto him, pinning him in place as he squirmed. She inhaled his neck’s scent and growled in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. He turned his head as he struggled, exposing his neck, and it was all the invitation she needed. Her mouth opened wide, sharp teeth and pointed fangs glistening in the moonlight as she bit down on his neck. 

A brief moment of pain was all he felt before he was swept away in a new sensation. Kestrel drew deeply from him, drinking not his blood, but his essence. He felt a slow trickle of pleasure that grew the more she licked, nibbled, and nipped at his neck. He tingled from within, sparking along nerves he didn’t know he had. A moan escaped from Marc’s lips, its submissive tone making him self-conscious, as it made her wetter. She moved his arms so that she could hold both wrists in one hand. With her newly freed hand she grabbed his throat, paralyzing him. 

“Mine,” Kestrel declared possessively. He could only mutely nod. Briefly sated by the never ending wellspring of his essence, she took a moment to admire the welt on his neck. _Something to remember me by_ , she mused before returning to nibble and lick her way up his neck. Her untamed hair cascaded around their faces, blocking his vision, forcing him to focus on how she made him feel. 

Reaching his ear, she licked and nipped at it, before blowing cool air upon it. “Who do you belong to?” she whispered breathlessly. “You,” he replied. She pressed her body against his, her hand tightening around his throat. “Say it. Say my name,” she pressured. 

He froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish caught on a hook. When seconds passed and he didn’t answer, she asked cautiously, “You don’t remember, do you?” He shook his head dejectedly, “I tried. I swear, but,” the words tumbled out of his mouth, “I just can’t remember. I remember pieces, and moments. Fights and more than fights. Being together, side by side or opposed, but still together. Some elements, like your eyes or your scent in the air, I can picture clearly. Others change between claws, wings, fur, scales, flesh both soft and unyieldingly hard. But,” he whined, “I can’t remember your Name.”

The woods were silent. The only sound was his shallow ragged breaths. She was torn between being frustrated at her inability to get her name to carry across the void, and touched by how much he did remember. She settled on the latter and gently purred, stroking his hair till his breathing settled down.

When the tension in his frame finally abated she told him “its Kestrel. My name is Kestrel.” “Kestrel,” he said, uttering her name for the first time. She nuzzled his neck and turned him to face her. “Again,” she murmured. “Kestrel,” he said, opening his eyes and looking deep into her smoky orbs. “Kestrel,” he repeated softly as they leaned in towards each other. “Kestrel,” he whispered like a prayer as their lips met.

The moment their lips touched, it was like a match had been set to dry grass. Passion rose like a wildfire between them as their tongues danced. Clashing, probing, she welcomed his tongue in her mouth and swirled it around before shoving both back into his. He drank of her essence this time, swallowing down their mixed saliva. He tasted the faint sensation of her flames, feeling it run through him.

Their passions renewed, she broke the kiss with an audible pop, a single line of saliva connecting their lips for a moment before she sat up. Her tail twitched giddily as she slid down to sit across his legs. He tried to move, only to realize that a vine now trapped his extended arms, leaving him at her mercy.

“First things first,” she declared, “you have too many clothes on.” Her claws audibly extended, causing him to bite his lower lip in anticipation. He felt her palms slowly glide up his back, soft flesh running across his back where the existing tears in his shirt left him exposed. Her fingers curled around his shoulders as claws poked holes in the remains of his shirt. Slowly, achingly slowly, she drew her claws down his back, shredding his shirt and leaving a set of thin scratches on his back. His torso twisted and writhed under the sensations, but between the vines and her weight, he could do nothing but enjoy. Reaching the end of his shirt, she ran her hands up his sides to push away the destroyed garment, exposing his back, eliciting a quick intake of breath as the cool air ran across him.

She purred in appreciation at his exposed back. She ran her hands along his broad shoulders and brought them together along the trapezoidal muscles that framed his neck. She traced her claws around the wing shaped patches of hair at the peak of his back. _I wonder when he will fly,_ she mused. Her soft hands ran across his shoulder blades and a single finger ran along each and every rib before resting her palms on his lumbar muscles.

Kestrel curled her fingers under his pants, around the boxers that had been mostly untouched by the forest. “Brace yourself,” she warned before she yanked the material off of him. His hips came off the ground with a yelp before a *riiiiiip* was heard and his underwear came apart. She chuckled as he flopped to the ground. She took her time to tear out the remaining stitches of his pants before tossing the destroyed garments aside.

She slid down, dragging herself along his body to explore his legs. She first ran a claw along the base of his foot, inside his exposed arch, smiling at his involuntary twitching. Kestrel then ran her hands up his leg, before kneading his calf muscles approvingly. Two hands ran up along a thigh, the fingers stopping frustratingly short of the apex between his legs, before claws ran back down eliciting a whimper from Marc. Her eyebrow raised in interest and she repeated the gesture on his other leg, teasingly getting higher on his thigh before raking down his sensitive inner flesh. This time his leg twitched pleasingly.

Shuffling to sit back at the top of his legs, she hummed to herself as she untied her top. Breathing in deeply, she stretched out before tossing her top in front of him. She cupped her breasts, running her thumbs against her hard nipples when she saw him start to turn and look at her.

“No.” Her hand came down forcefully onto his head, pushing his face into the ground. She couldn’t make out his muffled reply. Still holding his head down, she continued, “I am the hunter, you are my prey. You only get to have these,” she dragged her breasts across his back, “when you are the victor.” She felt him nod and so she sat back up straight. Marc returned to looking ahead.

“But what to do here?” she said, her hands hovering over his ass. She rolled her hips into him, grinding her panty covered crotch against him. He started pressing his butt back against her, eager for her touch. “What’s this? Does he want...something more,” she asked, her panties suddenly swelling with a bulge of their own. His butt cheeks clenched. “No,” he said quietly, “I don’t want...I’m not...”

She dismissed the offending genitalia and lay down upon him. “Shhh-shh-shh, it’s okay.” She pressed her cheek against his and whispered, “I know all about your fantasies. But, we’ll leave that one till you are ready.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she put a finger gently over his mouth. “No, no. No more talking. The only sounds I want to hear you make are moans, and my name. Got it?” “Yes Kestrel.”

“That’s my favorite boy,” she purred, tilting his head to the side. Her lips planted small kisses on his neck. Finding the bruised spot she marked before, she latched back onto him. At times she scraped her teeth along his neck, other times sucking like she was trying to draw him inside her. She undulated against him, grinding her hips against his, pressing his exposed member into the mossy ground. His mouth hung open, softly panting. She placed two of her finger inside his open mouth, and he obligingly sucked on them. Running his tongue across the pads of her fingers, his teeth along her skin, Kestrel purred happily.

She stretched her legs out, rubbing her soft fur against his hairy legs. Her free hand scratched errant patterns along his side before shifting around at his waist. “Up a bit,” she commanded and he obliged, pushing his hips enough off the ground for her to snake her hand underneath him and lightly stroke his shaft with the tips of her claws. 

Marc was thrown. He could feel her nipples running across his back, her hot breath on his neck, and tiny pin pricks of pain from her claws on his manhood. Pressed down to the ground underneath Kestrel, bound to the ground by vines, he had never felt so small, so helpless, yet so safe and contented. A long slow sigh of pleasure escaped his lips as she withdrew her fingers from his mouth.

Her long hair tickled his downward face as her hand, wet with his saliva, moved to replace her claws on his shaft. Her wet hand gripped him tightly and slowly stroked up and down, while her clawed fingers danced across his stomach like a spider. Shifting positions slightly, she planted kisses along his back and started lightly pinching his nipple. He could feel her wet panties rubbing against his ass. Her hand shifted to his other nipple, only to find that it was pierced with a small nipple ring. She latched her claw into the ring and tugged as she whispered, “you kept this? Oh my poor darling.” Her tone shifted from caring to sultry, “the things I will do to you,” as she twisted the ring slowly, eliciting an intake of air from him. She thrust her hips into his butt, the slapping sound of their skin meeting filling the air.

He soon found himself humping her hand each time she thrust into him. Pleased with his responses, the pace of her strokes picked up. He pulled himself further up, as his hips wanting, nay, needing more room to thrust. She was eliciting vulgar moans from him with her hands and he loved it. “What if I stopped,” she teased as her hands slowed. “What if I just held still, would you keep humping my hand like an animal?” He let out a wounded moan before nodding his head. “And what if I decided you were done?” she asked as her hand hovered around his penis, no longer moving, barely touching. “And that was all the pleasure you got tonight, would you deny me?” A frustrated whimper came out of his throat before he shook his head. “And why is that?” she asked, taking his unpierced nipple between her finger and thumb. “You caught me,” he whispered, “you won.” He swallowed, “and I am yours Kestrel.”

“Right answer,” said as she twisted his nipple hard. Her hand gripped his penis with renewed strength and furiously jerked him off. She brought her second hand around to the tip of his precum soaked penis and ran her soft palm over the tip. His back arched up and his one leg shot out straight as he was suddenly overwhelmed. 

“Kestrel...I’m...gonna...” he strained through labored breathing. “Do it,” she hissed in his ear. She stroked him faster and teased his cockhead harder as she felt his body tense up, “cum for me.” It was like his body had been waiting for permission, his orgasm hit him instantly. He strained against the vines, humping her hands that kept pumping him, squeezing every last drop of his essence into her waiting palm. When his spasming slowed, she firmly squeezed the full length of shaft, slowly getting every last drop of his semen out. Confident she had it all, she withdrew her hands out from underneath him and he thankfully collapsed on the mossy ground, breathing heavily.

She sat up and poured the pool of semen from her hand into her waiting mouth. Running her hand against her lips, she savored his taste, swallowing all she drank. Her other hand cupped her breasts, smearing some of his essence on her flesh. As she ran her fingers across her pert nipples, she let out a brief squeak of pain as a ring piercing manifested and penetrated her own nipple. _I should have expected that_ , she chuckled, _now that I know_.She delighted in the sensations from her newly pierced nipple, briefly tugging and twisting her latest transformation. As she played with her nipple, her other hand slipped inside her panties and teased her soaking wet pussy before bringing it up and cleaning her fingers off with her tongue.

While Kestrel enjoyed the taste of his essence and could feel herself tingling from the pleasure she absorbed from him, she knew she wanted more. One last act of dominance to share her essence with his. She grabbed at his hair to pull him out of his post-orgasm daze, “don’t wake up on me yet,” she cautioned. “Now you are going to close your eyes, and you won’t open them till I say you can. Got it?” “Yes Kestrel,” he closed his eyes. Releasing his hair, she stood up, “now turn over.” He obediently rolled over, realizing the vines were no longer holding him in place.

Now that he was face up, she saw his bare chest and reddened nipples and her fingers itched once more to scratch him. Her gaze dropped to his crotch and damp penis that were both smeared lightly with the remainders of his orgasm. _Later_ , she thought to herself, _other plans first._ She reached down to the ties holding her panties in place and removed them, tossing the soiled garment aside.

She stepped forward, putting her feet on both sides of his head. Kestrel watched his head tilt slightly to the sound of each foot settling in place, but his eyes stayed obediently closed. Staring down at him, she bent her knees and slowly squatted down, not sitting directly on his face, but hovering just above it. Between all the stimulation and the angle, her puffy pussy lips were spread wide open, glistening just an inch above him. Marc sniffed, he knew that smell. He knew her scent. He inhaled more deeply, drawing her musk into his nose, unable to bring himself to lift his head without permission. 

Kestrel clenched her inner muscles and a bead of nectar dribbled out of her spread pussy and slowly dropped to land on his lip. Marc licked it up without a thought, savoring her salty and fruity nectar. “More?” he hazarded to ask. “More what who?” she clarified. He took a breath to push a small bit of unwanted pride down. “More please Kestrel,” he asked, his desire evident in his voice. “As you wish,” she replied, lowering herself closer to his waiting face.

Her pussy lips grazed across his, dribbling her nectar out in a lurid kiss. Marc raised his head to get up to her. His tongue darted out, slurping up her essence like he was dying of thirst. “Good boy,” Kestrel coo-d as she slid back and forth, smearing herself all over his face. One hand pinched her newly pierced nipple, the other entangled itself in his hair, tugging him deeper into her. He got the hint. Pushing her lips apart with his nose, he wriggled himself deeper into her folds. His tongue thrust up inside her, pushing and probing her inner folds. Buried in between her wet folds, he had to time his breathing to her movements. Each breath in from his nose was filled with her sweet sultry scent, but he wanted more of her. His hands went up to her meaty thighs and squeezed. 

Kestrel smiled and shifted her legs so that she wasn’t balancing on her toes, but rested fully on her legs and his face. Putting her full weight down, she pulled him up by his hair and squeezed her thighs together, trapping him in her womanhood. She enjoyed seeing his face disappear between her legs, but tossed her head back and loudly moaned when he started sucking on her clit.

Marc sucked her engorged clit into his mouth, nipping it with his teeth before running his tongue out, under her hood. The taste of smoky cherries filled his mouth as he kept swallowing her juices that flowed into his waiting mouth. His hands kneaded at her thighs, gripping the taut muscles there. Surrounded by her flesh, nectar all over his face, he felt at ease. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that he couldn’t breathe anymore, but he didn’t care. He would breathe when she let him, and until then, he existed only to please her.

Lost in her own pleasure, Kestrel pulled her nipples far from her breasts as her back arched. Her tail coiled around to tug against one of his wrists, a gesture he failed to understand. Reaching down, she grabbed his hands off her thighs and shifted them to her ass. Marc pulled her butt into his face more, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. Spreading her legs wider, she somehow managed to drive his face even further into her body. His nose teased her clit and his tongue thrusted in and out of her, fucking her pussy with his mouth. With each thrust of his tongue, she felt that he was getting longer and bigger, filling her up with his growing tongue. “Just like that,” she groaned as her legs started to spasm. Marc obliged and shoved even more of his tongue inside her.

Her orgasm hit her hard and she let out an animalistic scream. Her arms shot out straight like she had been struck by lightning. She squirted all over his face, humping him wantonly. He swallowed as fast as he could, but not expecting the volume of her nectar some escaped and ran down his chin. But throughout her orgasm, he kept tongue-fucking her.

Kestrel’s twitching subsided and with a contented sigh, she dragged herself off of his face and sat on his chest. Looking down, he was a sexy mess. His nose, lips, and chin were glistening with her nectar. His cheeks were flushed as he gulped down air. She ran her fingers though the sweaty mess that was his hair and lovingly smiled. “Good job,” she praised. _I hope his tongue grows that long later_ , she thought before continuing aloud, “let me clean you up.” She slowly dragged her wet pussy down his chest, purposefully leaving a damp trail before settling down on top of him. She took his arms and wrapped them around her as she licked his face clean. “You can open them if you wish,” she said after sucking up a glob of nectar that pooled on his eyelid.

Marc opened his eyes dreamily. Kestrel sparkled beautifully in the moonlight. He held her close as he watched her lick and kiss his face, felt her weight upon him and reflected. He felt a strange peace in being taken. It was unusual for him, he had always been the one in charge during sex. And while he enjoyed giving oral sex, never before had he let a woman be on top like that. But as he thought about it, he couldn’t deny that it had been wonderful and he was happy. A warm tingling sensation ran through his soul. Kestrel was wonderful. Kestrel made him happy. She was more woman than he thought possible. And he couldn’t wait for the next time, when he could try to make her his. She interrupted his thoughts by kissing him again, which he returned languidly. They lay there the rest of the night kissing gently, her body on his, his arms holding her, till he woke from his wonderful dream.


End file.
